


if you love me, don't let go

by quinnking



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, trigger warning for talks of an abortion, trigger warning for talks of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnking/pseuds/quinnking
Summary: She squeezes her eyes shut and clenches her jaw, and lets S work on cleaning her face. And fuck, it does hurt.“All done, love,” S says, gently, and Sarah peeks one eye open to see S looking back at her. “Try not to reopen that. No more fights ‘till it’s healed.”(or: five times sarah didn't need siobhan's help, but she got it anyway).





	if you love me, don't let go

**Author's Note:**

> so. these two, huh? this is pretty much au but hopefully can be believable enough to go into canon. title of the fic comes from unsteady by x ambassadors. 
> 
> come yell at (or with) me on twitter, i'm katewinsletts. or on tumblr, i'm robinwright. :)
> 
> note: i tried to be as canon compliant as i could but from what i've read, sarah's 31 (born in 84) and kira's 8 (born in 2005). these ages and dates provide two different dates of when sarah had kira; 21 and 23. so i went with 22 when she gave birth since sarah has an early birthday, and 21 when sarah figured out she was pregnant and told s.

_mother, i know that you're tired of being alone._

* * *

_Sarah, age 12_

“Where have you been?” Siobhan asks.

“Out,” Sarah says and finally turns toward S, and the older woman's eyes widen slightly.

“Who did that?” she asks, voice low and calm even though Sarah can see a fire burning behind blue eyes.

Sarah shrugs. “I don't know. Doesn't matter. I'm just going to go take a shower.”

She goes to walk by S and up the stairs but a cold hand wraps around Sarah's bare arm.

“No you don't. Go sit over there. I'm cleaning that up before it gets infected.”

Sarah sighs and stomps down the hallway, and really, she doesn't know why she's so annoyed but whenever S does this stuff, _moms her,_ Sarah gets frustrated.

“It hurts,” Sarah whines when S touches her with a cloth.

“You won’t need stitches, and getting those near the eye isn't pleasant.”

Sarah so badly wants to ask _how_ S knows that, but she doesn't and instead hisses when S dabs alcohol on Sarah’s cut. She squeezes her eyes shut and clenches her jaw, and lets S work on cleaning her face. And _fuck,_ it does hurt.

“All done, love,” S says, gently, and Sarah peeks one eye open to see S looking back at her. “Try not to reopen that. No more fights ‘till it’s healed.”

Sarah almost cracks a smile.

* * *

_Sarah, age 14 and a half_

“Another black eye?”

Sarah almost rolls her eyes at the snarky comment.

“You should see the other guy,” she says, gruffly. The aforementioned boy had been touching Sarah’s ass and she didn’t take too kindly to it.

And from the look in S’s eye, where Sarah expects anger, she sees understanding.

“You’re a shite fighter,” S says honestly. “Come.”

Sarah’s mouth goes into a grim line, unsure of what’s about to happen, but she follows S through the house and into the small backyard.

“Come here,” S repeats, a little impatiently, and Sarah rolls her eyes and stands in front of her. “Show me what you’d do in a fight. If someone came at you.”

“Wh-”

“Show me,” S tells her again. “You won’t hurt me, love.”

Sarah chuckles, takes a deep breath and lunges, only to be… brought down.

She’s looking up at Mrs. S, the sun getting into her eyes around her foster mum’s head, and she blinks blearily.

“How did you do that?”

S gives a small laugh and gives Sarah a hand up. Sarah brushes the dirt and grass off of her pants and looks at S expectantly.

“Well, are you going to teach me or not?”

* * *

_Sarah, age 17 and a half_

“Shit,” Sarah mumbles as staggers down the road. She’s drunk. And possibly very high. And she snuck out of the house earlier that evening, and now she’s stranded. Drunk, and at a gas station. And it’s bloody freezing.

She goes into the little store and looks at the guy at the counter. He’s looking at her like she’s all-too appealing and Sarah doesn’t like that feeling.

“Can I use your phone,” she says, gruff and annoyed.

She can feel judgment and _other stuff_  radiating off of the guy but bites back the mean comments she wants to screech at him as he lets her use his phone.

“Hello,” comes the muffled response from the other line after it rings a few times.

“Mum,” Sarah says softly, to ease and hopefully lessen the anger. “I need you to come get me. I don’t know how to get home.”

She hears ruffling and then, “where are you?” Her voice is a bit harder.

The dude behind the counter gives Sarah the address and she parrots it into the phone, and when S tells her she’ll be right there and hangs up, she feels a bit of dread.

She has to wait about twenty minutes before she sees S’s truck and she runs out of the shop and hops into the front seat.

“What were you thinking, Sarah,” S chides as she pulls out of the lot and onto the road. “It is three in the bloody morning and you were alone, in one of the worst parts of the city no less.”

“I know,” Sarah says, defensive. “I didn’t expect to get left here, okay?”

At a red light S pins Sarah with such a look that Sarah feels like cowering into the safety of her own seat, but she doesn’t. She swallows down the bile.

“You said if I ever got too fucked to call you and I did,” Sarah reminds her, but her voice is far more unsteady than it was before.

S doesn’t look at her but Sarah doesn’t look away, keeps her eyes trained on her mum and notes the way S’s jaw ticks when she clenches it.

“I just wish you’d be more mindful,” S starts, “and realize that you’re not invincible and one day _something could happen to you_ when you do this.”

Sarah blinks back the sudden rush of tears that hits the back of her eyes and she does look away, out the window, and doesn’t reply.

They pull onto their street and Sarah thinks they’re not going to talk anymore until S says, in a lighter tone, “I’d ground you but you’d just sneak out and get yourself into trouble if I did.”

And although it doesn’t sound like it, Sarah _can_ still hear the warning behind the joking words.

She doesn’t sneak out for a couple of weeks after that.

* * *

_Sarah, age 22 and a half_

“Where do you think you’re goin’?”

Sarah huffs and turns to see S, holding Kira to her chest, looking at her expectantly.

“I’m going out.”

“You have a child now, Sarah. You can’t be doing this.”

Sarah grinds her teeth and sets her jaw. “I can’t do this right now. I need to go out.”

“Love, you can’t just be thinking about yourself. You’re a mother.”

“Please,” Sarah asks, because she _needs_ to go out. She needs some time away, some space. She loves her daughter with all her heart but she’s so fucking overwhelmed.

She moves closer until she’s standing right in front of S and Kira. “Please,” she repeats.

S drops her eyes to the little bundle in her arms and Sarah can feel anger and hesitation radiating off of her.

“You need to take responsibility. I asked you if you knew what it meant to be a mother and you said you were ready.”

“And I will be,” Sarah says, voice getting harder.

“Children don’t wait for their parents to be ready. You had nine months to prepare. To change your mind.”

If S wasn’t holding Kira Sarah think she may pop her one.

“I’m goin' out.”

She kisses Kira on the top of the head and the baby coos at her, and she backs up toward the front door.

“Please, watch her like you watched over me,” Sarah says, gently.

“You know I will,” S says after a moment, so quiet that Sarah’s not even sure she heard her right.

* * *

_Sarah, age 26_

She’s just put Kira down for a nap and she’s slumped in a heap in the bathroom attached to S’s bedroom. She’s been throwing up all day, and she knows why. She does, but she can’t do this.

A knock on the door, two and then it opens.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Sarah doesn’t answer, she just throws up again and her throat burns. She leans back and wipes her mouth, tears flowing down her face so rapidly that she can’t see. S doesn’t say anything, just closes the door behind her and kneels down beside Sarah.

“I’m pregnant.”

She hears an intake of breath and then feels cold hands on her cheek and neck. S reaches to flush the toilet and close the lid before bringing Sarah in.

And Sarah… let’s her. She doesn’t know why, she hasn’t let S comfort her this way since she was in her early teens, but fuck. She needs a mum right now.

“It’s Vic’s.”

S strokes her fingers through Sarah’s sweat-dampened (and horribly matted) hair.

“You what he does to me,” Sarah says, voice thick. “What would he do to a bloody baby?”

“Whatever you decide, I’m behind you.”

And it’s so much like what S said when Sarah told her she was pregnant with Kira that she feels a new wave of tears washing over her and she’s staining S’s flannel, but she can’t find it in her to care.

It takes a while to calm down and Sarah doesn’t know how long, but S doesn’t let up soothing her with her hands and soft words.

“Can you take me to that clinic?”

“Of course, love. We'll go when you're ready."


End file.
